


i'm only little

by Mr_Phich



Series: Samma and Stevie [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Diapers, Hurt/Comfort, Littles Are Known, Non-Sexual Age Play, Public Accidents, Wetting, caregiver!Sam, little!steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 15:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19232095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Phich/pseuds/Mr_Phich
Summary: It’s not long before Sam starts to suspect something is Not Quite Right with Steve. So Sam’s got an inkling. He even thinks he’s got a pretty good guess on why no one knows. Sam doesn’t know how Steve’s managing it, but he figures that’s not really any of his business unless Steve asks for his help or really starts to fall apart.





	i'm only little

**Author's Note:**

> I decided very last minute I wanted to get this done for father's day, so I apologize for any typos or other sloppiness. There will probably be more in this series, but at very irregular intervals. 
> 
> Anyway, happy father's day! :)

It’s not long before Sam starts to suspect something is Not Quite Right with Steve. It’s little things at first — he’s a bit of a slob, to start. He leaves towels and clothes everywhere, can’t ever seem to find something when he needs it. Sam doesn’t completely understand how someone who is so organized and strategic when it comes to mission would lose his head if it wasn’t attached. 

He’s a bit of a sloppy eater, too. Watching Steve eat spaghetti, Sam feels like he might as well be sitting at the table with his four-year-old nephew. 

Steve also crashes absurdly early most nights — like he’s in bed by ten at the latest if at all possible. And he’s cranky as all hell if he doesn’t get enough sleep. 

So Sam’s got an inkling. He even thinks he’s got a pretty good guess on why no one knows. Sam doesn’t know how Steve’s managing it, but he figures that’s not really any of his business unless Steve asks for his help or really starts to fall apart. 

And Sam’s totally fine with that plan, he really is. 

Then one night they’re somewhere in Eastern Europe and he can’t find his goddamn phone charger and he promised he’d facetime his momma, so without really thinking about he goes over to Steve’s bag. Steve’s in the shower, washing off the dust from an abandoned Hydra outpost they’d checked out that day. It had been obvious no one had been there in decades and Steve had come out of it looking defeated and anxious, so Sam’s trying to give him his space. He gets why Steve’s fixated on finding his friend — Sam would be the same — but he doesn’t completely understand how worried Steve is about Barnes being out there on his own. 

With a sigh, Sam unzips Steve’s duffle and starts ruffling through it. He hears the water shut off in the bathroom, just as his hand lands on something unexpected. Frowning, Sam tugs the item out. 

It’s a pull up. One of those super low-profile ones, made for the very young classes who suffer from incontinence even when they’re big due to their little class. 

Fuck. 

He hadn’t thought Steve was _ that _ little. And now he’s gone and invaded an area of Steve’s personal life that he promised himself he wouldn’t invade. But he can’t just ignore it — not if Steve’s a  _ toddler  _ or something. Before he can decide how he wants to handle the situation, the bathroom door opens. Sam turns, pull up still in hand. 

Steve’s already wearing his sweats, ready to hit the sack, and he’s towelling off his hair. It takes him a minute to realize what Sam has in his hand. His face goes deathly pale and then two spots of color appear on his cheeks and his ears start to turn bright red. 

For a minute they just stare at each other. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam finally says, keeping his voice calm and soft. “I couldn’t find my phone charger, I didn’t think you’d mind…”

Sam can see Steve’s throat working as he swallows. Steve fixes his gaze on the ground and doesn’t say anything. Shit, Sam thinks. He’s really fucked this up. 

“It’s okay,” he reassures. “I’d kinda guessed you might be little.”

Steve’s chin jerks up, eyes going wide. “What?! How?” he asks, sounding near panic. Sam winces. 

“Just little things,” Sam reassures. “I wouldn’t have noticed if we weren’t living on top of each other like this.”

A little of the tension eases out of Steve’s shoulders, but he still looks tightly strung and humiliated. Sam doesn’t know what to do about any of that. He  _ wants  _ to give Steve a hug, but he’s not sure that would be welcome right now. 

“It’s okay,” he repeats. “I don’t care, okay Steve? I don’t think of you any different.”

Steve’s shoulders hunch up to his ears. He still doesn’t say anything. Sam looks back down at the pull up in his hand. 

Gently, he asks, “What’s your class?”

Steve’s cheeks pink even further and he folds into himself. Steve’s pretty tall for a little, not quite 6’, making him of a height with Sam. But as his body contorts, he manages to make himself look small. Sam itches to pull him close and reassure him. 

“I’m E,” Steve finally whispers. Sam blinks, a little surprised. When he saw the pull up he figured that Steve would be in the first three classes,  _ maybe  _ the first four. But E puts Steve in the 4 - 6 year developmental range. Sam glances down at the protection again. 

Steve must catch him at it, cause he makes a little hurt noise and mumbles, “Just at night! I just need it at night. There’s scary dreams and I…” 

He’s falling into headspace, Sam realizes. Mentally he prepares himself for that eventuality. It’s not surprising, really. It’s a stressful situation and who knows the last time Steve was properly little. He probably needs it bad. 

“Shh,” Sam soothes, stepping in a little closer. Steve hunches even further but doesn’t back away, so Sam takes that as a sign it’s okay to move in a little more. “Hey, it’s alright Steve. Lots of littles in your class wet the bed.”

Steve whimpers out a protest at the wording. Sam lets the pull up drop on the bed and steps in a little further. “It’s fine,” he continues to reassure. “I’m not mad or upset or anything, Steve. It’s really normal, okay?” 

And it is. Though Sam had assumed that Steve would be younger when he saw the protection, bedwetting is common in littles all the way up to class F, especially among boys. And given Steve’s trauma history, it’s really not shocking at all that he’d have some issues with it. 

“Can I give you a hug, Steve? I’d really love to give you a hug.” 

Steve hesitates, but finally he nods and Sam quickly moves in, wrapping him into a tight hug. Steve collapses against him, bringing one hand up and over Sam’s shoulder and then slipping his fingers into his mouth, where he sucks on them lightly. 

“Aw, kiddo,” Sam says softly. Steve tucks his head shyly but doesn’t stop. The poor kid, Sam thinks. He must be absolutely wrecked. It’s a good thing they’re headed back stateside for a bit tomorrow. They can figure this out, get a plan in place so Steve actually gets to be little sometimes. “C’mon, let’s get you in bed, okay? I’m exhausted and I know you must be too.”

Steve nods, but doesn’t pull away. Sam takes the cue and they spend another few minutes just hugging. As Steve’s body starts to get heavy, Sam finally pulls back, carefully untangling them. 

“Alright, bud,” he says, pet names falling off his lips without thought. “Let’s get you in bed. You all ready? Brushed your teeth and everything?” Sam doesn’t specifically ask about the protection, because he’s not sure that’s his place and it’s clear that Steve’s been able to manage that on his own — certainly Sam never caught on. 

Steve nods again, slipping his fingers back into his mouth and staring down at the ground. Sam gently leads Steve to one of the full beds and pulls back the covers. Steve climbs in clumsily and settles down. Gently, Sam pulls up the covers and tucks them in around Steve. He turns on the bedside lamp and goes to get up to turn off the overhead when Steve catches his sleeve. 

“Story, Sam? Please?” Steve asks, eyes wide and Sam absolutely melts. 

“Of course, kiddo. Lemme just turn the light off, okay?”

Steve nods and lets go of him, letting him up. When Sam’s halfway back to him, Steve shyly asks, “Bathroom light?”

“You want me to leave that one on?” Sam asks, turning that way. 

“Uhuh. Please,” Steve murmurs sleepily. It’s no wonder that Steve is afraid of the dark, but Sam hurts to think about all the nights he turned all the lights off and made their room pitch black. Steve wasn’t little then, presumably, but certain anxieties are hard for littles to rid themselves of even when they’re big. 

So Sam turns the bathroom light on and leaves the door open halfway, before returning to Steve’s side. He perches on the side of the bed. He wishes that he had a proper story book for Steve — one with beautiful pictures and carefully crafted words. He makes do with a meandering fairytale that’s part Cinderella and part Sleeping Beauty. 

His nieces would have been appalled, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind and quickly drifts off. Sam spends a long time sitting next to him, looking at his peaceful, sleeping face. Steve still has his fingers in his mouth and his blond hair creates a halo on the pillow. He looks so  _ young _ . 

The poor kid, Sam thinks. How long has he been on his own? With no time to be little? It was a biological necessity — littles couldn’t go without it for too long without getting sick. Maybe the serum affected that too? Sam wouldn’t be surprised. 

Steve’s going to need someone to look after him. It’s been a while since Sam had a little, but he’s missed it. Caregivers don’t have quite the same biological  _ need  _ as littles do, but Sam certainly feels bereft when he doesn’t have someone to look after. 

Sam already cares about Steve, already feels protective him. If Steve would have him, Sam would love to be his caregiver. He reaches out and gently combs his fingers through Steve’s hair. He stirs briefly, then rolls towards Sam, cuddling further under the blankets and mumbling around his fingers. 

He’ll ask, Sam decides, as soon as Steve is big, he’ll ask and see if Steve will take him as his caregiver. 

*

Steve’s still little in the morning. Sam wakes up first, for once, and sets about making coffee in the dinky motel coffee maker. 

Steve wakes not much later, sitting up and yawning, then rubbing his eyes with clumsy fists — Sam’s first clue that he’s still little. Steve looks up and catches Sam watching him and immediately he goes pink and slips his fingers into his mouth. 

“Aw, kiddo,” Sam says softly, setting down his coffee. He comes over to the bed and perches on the side of it. “Still feeling little?”

Nodding, Steve fixes his gaze on the bedcovers, not meeting Sam’s eyes. “Sorry, Sam. Didn’t mean to be.”

“That’s okay,” Sam soothes, reaching out to pat Steve’s thigh reassuringly. “It’s been a long time, huh?”

“Uhuh,” Steve mumbles. 

“You probably need it pretty bad. Is it alright if I take care of you until you can be big again?”

Steve looks up at him, eyes going a little wide. “You wanna take care of me?”

God, why does he have to sound surprised, Sam thinks, heart breaking a little. He wonders when the last time anyone showed any sort of interest in taking care of Steve, even when he’s big. 

“Of course I do,” Sam says. “You’re my friend, and I care about you. And — it's been a long time since I’ve had a little to look after, and I’ve missed it.”

“Oh.” Steve goes back to staring at the covers and sucking on his fingers, so Sam rubs his leg again. 

“Why don’t you go get ready for the day, kiddo, then we can grab some breakfast and head to the airport. How does that sound?”

Steve fidgets, then blushes deeply.  _ Ah,  _ Sam thinks,  _ probably wet.  _

“Do you want to take a shower?” Sam offers kindly. Steve’s blush starts to creep down his neck and Sam winces a little. He’s not meaning to embarrass the poor kid.

“Dun’ like showers,” Steve mumbles around his fingers and Sam’s eyebrows life, surprised by the admission.

He carefully considers Steve’s expression — there’s real discomfort and fear there, Sam thinks, which he hates to see. “How come?”

“Water on my face,” Steve whispers. He pulls his knees up, dislodging Sam’s hand, and wraps his free hand around them in a self-hug. 

“Ah,” Sam says in an equally soft tone. He can understand why that might be an issue for Steve. “Well how ‘bout a bath, then?”

Peeking up at him, Steve sucks a little harder on his fingers. “You?”

Sam frowns, not sure what the boy is asking. “Me, what?”

Blushing, Steve buries his face in his knees and mumbles something too quiet for Sam to hear. 

“I’m sorry, kiddo, I didn’t hear you. Say it again, just a little louder?” Sam leans in a little closer, so that he can hear Steve’s voice. 

“You gimme bath? Please?”

Sam’s eyes go wide, honestly shocked by the request. He didn’t think that Steve would trust him this much so quickly. But then — he thinks back to last night, to the easy way Steve leaned into his embrace, to his innocent requests for a story and the light to be left on — and maybe it’s not so surprising, after all. And either way, this is what he wants — he wants Steve to let him take care of him. 

“Sure thing, bud,” Sam says gently, reaching out and petting Steve’s hair. “C’mon, up you get, let’s go run you a nice warm bath, okay?” He holds his hand out for Steve to take and gently coaxes the little boy out of bed. 

Steve clutches at his hand as he follows him into the bathroom, so much so that Sam is reluctant to let go to start the bath. As soon as he does, Steve wraps his arm around himself, gripping at his t-shirt. The boy needs a lovie of some kind, Sam decides. A stuffed animal or a blanket — something to hold on to. 

Sam starts the water, making sure to run it nice and hot, because he knows that Steve reacts poorly to cold water — there’d been a week they’d been in East Germany, staying in a tiny little apartment with no hot water, and Steve had emerged from the shower with distant eyes, whole body shaking every single time. 

Once that’s going, he gets up and turns back to Steve, who’s still hugging himself tightly. “Do you want some help getting undressed, Steve?”

He hesitates, nibbling at his fingers. “M’little,” he mumbles after a minute. “Slept a long time.”

_ Ah,  _ Sam thinks. “Is your pull up wet?” he asks carefully. 

Steve’s chin wobbles threateningly and he closes his eyes tightly. 

“It’s okay, kiddo. That’s why you wear protection, okay? You’re only little. All little boys wet the bed sometimes.”

Steve just shrugs, clearly not buying a word Sam is saying.  

“I promise it’s okay,” Sam says, keeping his voice soft and soothing. “I’m not mad.”

Steve just bites his lip. Sam suppresses a sigh. This is a clearly bigger issues that will take some time to address. Hopefully they’ll have the time, Sam thinks. 

“Let me help you get undressed, kiddo.” He starts with Steve’s shirt and as he tugs on the hem, Steve’s arms fall away from his body, letting Sam strip the shirt off. Tossing it on the counter, Sam moves to Steve’s pants. He gently pulls them down, moving slowly. Steve’s wearing boxers underneath, over his pull up, so Sam slides those down Steve’s legs too. Steve steps out of them when Sam prompts, but his cheeks have gone bright red and he’s sucking anxiously on his fingers. 

“Okay, buddy. I’m going to take your pull up off now, alright?” 

Steve nods shakily, so Sam hurries through getting the wet garment off the little boy. 

“There we go,” he mumbles reassuringly. “That’s better, huh? Let’s get you in your bath.” He holds Steve’s hand as he steps into the bath and sits down. The tub is tiny, and Steve has to fold himself up pretty small in order to fit. 

_ We need a new place,  _ Sam thinks, a little ridiculously, given that Steve hasn’t even agreed to be his little yet. But he lets himself imagine it anyway — a place with a big tub that would make even Steve feel small. A few bedrooms, so Steve could have a room just for when he’s feeling little. Lots of toys, lots of books. Everything a little deserved to have. 

Sam moves away to get a washcloth before kneeling beside the tub. Steve’s got his knees pressed to his chest again and he’s sucking on his fingers, looking nervous. Sam aches a little, seeing it. He just wants Steve to feel  _ safe.  _

“Is it alright if I wash you, kiddo?” 

Steve nods, flushing pinker. Sam soaps up the washcloth and starts with Steve’s chest — finds out that he’s terribly ticklish along his ribs and under his arms. Sam is somehow not surprised that Steve allows him to wash everywhere without much fuss. He’s deep into little space and, Sam thinks a little sadly, desperate for somebody to take care of him. 

After Steve’s squeaky clean, Sam wraps him up in a couple towels — putting extra large towels on his mental list — and hustles him back out to the main room. Steve perches on the end of the bed while Sam rustles through Steve’s bag. He pulls out some sweats and a t-shirt, which is as good as they’re gonna get for little clothes right now. 

As he goes looking for underwear, his fingers brush across one of Steve’s pull ups. Sam pauses, considering. It’s a long flight back to the states — Steve might want to sleep. Though he doesn’t usually, Sam now realizes, probably for this precise reason. Sam glances over at Steve, who is looking so goddamn little. It would probably be a good idea. 

Sam tugs the pull up and a pair of boxers out of the bag, not quite sure it’s his place to make the decision. When Steve sees the pull up in his hand, he goes bright red. 

“I don’t need it!” he protests. “M’not a baby.”

“I know you’re not,” Sam says carefully. “But it’s a long plane ride and I thought you might like to sleep.”

Steve shakes his head, mouth set stubbornly and a fearful shame in his eyes that convinces Sam more than anything else. 

“Okay, bud, if that’s what you want.” Steve nods firmly and Sam tucks the pull up away

They hurry to get dressed and eat breakfast after that, and then take a junky little cab to the airport. Luckily, their “Avengers” IDs get them through security quickly and it’s not long before they’re settling into their first class seats — something which Sam is still getting used to. 

Steve always says he feels like such a ‘swell’ when he’s in first class, which Sam had to google, but he agrees with the assessment. But little, Steve doesn’t seem to feel any awkwardness about it. He’s in his seat, knees under him, watching out the window with a look of excitement on his face. 

He’d been shy and quiet in the airport, barely talking and faking big for all he was worth anytime he had to. But the semi-privacy of their row in first class seems to be enough to get him to relax. Not enough to get him talking though, but so far Steve hasn’t seemed to be a particularly chatty little, so maybe that’s just how he is. 

“Settle down on your bum,” Sam tells him and then buckles him in. He wishes he had some toys to give Steve, but all he’s got is a napkin and a pencil. Steve takes those happily enough and starts to draw, adorably sticking his tongue out as he concentrates. 

When the plan starts moving, Steve jumps and goes stiff, dropping the napkin and slipping his fingers back into his mouth. He looks anxiously up at Sam, eyes wide and a little wet. Sam’s heart jumps nervously in turn, reacting instinctively to the fearful little. 

“What’s a matter, hon?”

“Don’t like it,” Steve mumbles. 

Sam frowns, eyebrows folding down into a vee. “You don’t like what?”

“Goin’ in the air,” Steve says, now actively biting at his fingers. 

“Aw, kiddo,” Sam says, reaching out and putting an arm around him, tugging him close. Steve has never even hinted that flying bothers him, but given his past (both long ago and more recent) a fear of flying is totally understandable. 

“Plane’s okay,” Steve mumbles. “S’not like before. But dun’ like bein’ in the air.”

“I get why that could feel really scary,” Sam says, validating the fear before saying, “But planes are very safe. The times when something scary happened to you on them were because of other reasons. This plane is going to keep us very safe in the air.” 

Steve nods a little into Sam’s chest, but he’s clearly hiding away as the plane picks up speed. But that’s alright, Sam’s happy to hold him for the entire flight if that’s what it takes for him to feel safe. 

Steve’s shaky and nervous all the way through take off, but once the plane settles at it’s cruising altitude, he settles down a little, pulling away from Sam, but not taking his fingers out of his mouth. 

“Sam? Can I watch a movie?” 

“Course you can, kiddo. Want some help picking out a good one?” 

It turns out that, like most very young littles, Steve has trouble reading when he’s in headspace, so Sam reads the descriptions out loud and they eventually settle on  _ Mr. Peabody and Sherman _ and Sam gets that started for Steve. After Steve’s absorbed, Sam pulls out his own book and settles in for the eleven hour flight. 

A couple hours in, after starting a second movie for Steve, Sam glances over and finds Steve blinking sleepily and rubbing his eyes. Sam curses mentally. He should have insisted on that pull up, he doesn’t know what he was thinking. 

Gently, he pats Steve’s shoulder. “Why don’t you get up and go to the bathroom, then you can come back and take a nap, okay bud?”

Steve flushes and shakes his head. “Don’t need to.”

Sam doesn’t let himself be swayed this time. “Yes, kiddo. Up you get. Do you want me to come with you?”

Glaring, Steve shakes his head and gets up, practically stomping down the aisle to the bathroom. Sam hides a grin behind his book. He’s missed having a little around. 

*

All of Sam's efforts to make up for the ill-advised decision not to force a pull up are for naught though. They’re eight hours into the flight when Steve urgently tugs on Sam’s sleeve. Sam turns to him, putting his book down. Steve’s eyes are wide and anxious and his cheeks are flushed pink. 

“Need the bathroom, Sam.” Sam glances up to where the seat belt sign is turned on and grimaces. There’d been a little bit of turbulence — enough to make Steve cling nervously — but it seems to have died down for now. It’s probably fine for Steve to get up and go to the bathroom. He’s guessing from Steve’s behavior that the situation is fairly urgent, which Sam mentally tucks away to deal with later. He’s not sure if waiting too long is a regular thing for Steve, but only time will tell. 

“Yeah, okay kiddo. Unbuckle and go quick.” Steve does so urgently, fidgeting in his seat and drumming his heels into the ground. But just as he’s standing up, a flight attendant comes by. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to remain in your seat. The pilot is expecting further turbulence.”

Steve’s face goes panicked. 

“He needs the bathroom,” Sam explains lowly. “It won’t take long, can’t he just —”

“I’m sorry, but for your safety you will need to remain in your seat until the captain turns off the seatbelt —”

“He’s  _ little, _ ” Sam interrupts and a shot of annoyance flits across the flight attendant’s face. “He’s not going to be able to hold it.” Steve goes bright red at that but doesn’t argue, which tells Sam all he needs to know. 

“It’s airline policy that all little who are prone to incontinence wear protection,” she says, nose wrinkling and disdain building on her face as she looks at Steve. Sam can’t believe it’s 2014 and they still fucking have to deal with dynamism. What is fucking wrong with the world?

“Well he’s  _ not  _ and if you don’t let him go, you’re just going to end up having to deal with a mess.” 

Steve whimpers and Sam regrets the wording, but he’s trying to get Steve to the bathroom. This argument does seem to give the flight attendant pause and she looks up the aisle. She rolls her eyes and opens her mouth, but the plane gives a sudden jerk and Steve gasps. Sam spins to look — Steve’s got both hands buried in his crotch and his eyes are slammed closed. He’s clearly holding on to his last thread of control. The plane jerks again and that’s it — a dark patch starts to grow behind Steve’s hands. The little gives a plaintive sob. 

“Oh, Stevie,” Sam says, nickname falling off his tongue without thought, “It’s alright, shh. It’s alright, just an accident.” Sam unbuckles swiftly, standing so he can take Steve into his arms and protect him from the judgemental glance of the flight attendant. He’s just glad that she doesn’t seem to have recognized them. Maybe because Steve’s been so obviously little and everyone knows Cap’s not little. 

So much for that, Sam thinks, pulling back a little to inspect the damage. Steve’s soaked through and sobbing — now silently. Sam turns furiously back to the flight attendant, only to find she’s being hustled away by an older flight attendant who gives them a sympathetic look. 

“I’m so sorry about that, sir. Why don’t you bring him up to the front, we can hang a blanket so you can have some space to get him cleaned up.” 

Sam nods gratefully, suddenly exhausted. Of course, they have to go through the rest of first class to get there and he can feel people staring at them — but mostly it’s sympathetic murmurs. Sam can stand that. 

Steve hides behind his hands the entire way and doesn’t move them until the new flight attendant — Lucy, she introduces — hangs the promised blanket and they have the illusion of privacy. 

“I’m sorry, I’m  _ sorry _ ,” he whimpers, tears pouring down his face. “M’a big boy, I promise. I just — I didn’t — I’m  _ sorry. _ ”

“It’s alright, kiddo,” Sam soothes, petting hair away from Steve’s face and wiping away the tears. “It’s just an accident.” They’ll need to talk about it later, of course, about how often accidents happen to Steve, about waiting til the last minute. But that can all wait for a calmer moment. 

Steve shakes his head, unconvinced, distraught, and more than a little over-tired. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hon. You’ll feel better once you’re dry.” Sam gently coaxes Steve out of his shoes and socks — which are soaked and stinking — his pants, and his boxers and puts it all in a plastic bag Lucy had given them and uses the provided washcloths to wipe the urine away from Steve’s skin. 

Unzipping Steve’s duffel, Sam finds another pair of semi-clean sweats and without hesitation tugs out a pull up. Steve starts to cry again when he sees it and shakes his head desperately. 

“Yes, kiddo. This way you can take a nap and not worry. You’re tired and you need some sleep.”

Steve shakes his head again, but steps into it when Sam holds it out. Sam quickly covers it with the sweats, giving Steve as much dignity as he can manage, given the situation. Sam coaxes Steve into a hug and Steve collapses against him, sobbing and chewing anxiously on his fingers. 

“It’s been a big day,” Sam soothes. “But I’m here, I’ve got you. Don’t worry about anything, I’ll take care of you.” He rocks Steve side to side and slowly, slowly, Steve’s tears start to subside. 

“Let’s go back to out seat,” Sam suggests. “You can cuddle up next to me and get some sleep.”

Steve nods sleepily into Sam’s shoulder, so Sam gently guides him back to their row. There’s a wet spot on the floor, but it’s mostly been cleaned up. There’s a set of blankets and pillows waiting for them, and a sippy cup of juice that Sam can’t imagine where Lucy got. 

He hustles Steve into his seat and tucks the blanket around him, handing him the juice. Steve sucks at it unashamedly, blinking tiredly. Sam puts up the arm rest and guides Steve to lean into him. He holds him close, stroking his back. He presses a kiss into Steve’s hair. 

Steve sighs and mumbles, “Samma.” 

Sam presses another kiss into his hair, nuzzling close and breathing him in. 

Soon they’ll land in D.C. and Sam will have to deal with the aftermath of all this — figuring out a plan, because Steve clearly needs a break to be little, finding a place that can accommodate their needs, figuring out what Steve is really like when he’s little. Their will be other things to figure out too — whether Steve wants Sam to be his official caregiver, whether he’ll want to come out to the general public, what to do about Barnes — 

But it can all wait. Right now Steve is close and warm and mostly asleep. He’s safe, Sam’s safe. 

The rest will come. 

_ Fin.  _


End file.
